Time to Sleep
by Wylrin
Summary: Jason has been acting strange lately, and Michael Myers wants to know why.


**Author's Note:** Hello there! Some people have actually asked me to keep writing these short little stories of Michael and Jason, so here this is. I just hope it's not too bad. There aren't as many 'feels' in this one, but it's still a nice little story of interaction between the two serial killers. I'd also just like to thank those of you who enjoy my stories and want me to write more. It's nice to know my stories are appreciated and I just hope that you can enjoy them. :D

* * *

Jason wasn't talking.

More accurately, as the large man did not speak, there was no sense of attentiveness in him, and hardly any recognition of the other's presence. This did not bother the other so, as he himself did not always appreciate the company of another, but Michael did take note that this sort of, self _seclusion_ was not terribly common for his undead counterpart. Not to say that the hockey-masked killer had vanished from the other's visibility, locking himself away somewhere within the cabins or taking off into the vast woodland, no. He was still there, in the flesh, though his mind was as distant as if he _had_ tucked himself away.

Normally a glance was exchanged between the two, or _some _form of acknowledgement, as a way of recognizing the other's presence and accepting it, but there was no such exchange now.

It did not disturb Michael, no. Rather, it made him a bit curious. The other has always seemed to have some sort of fascination with him. Perhaps it was his silence, or his inability to die, each of which Jason shared with him. Though now, there was none of that. No curious glances or tilts of the head in wonder. It seemed as though the other had forgotten about his existence.

The Halloween killer was used to it, really. Used to being a phantom-like creature, able to slip away unseen and gone without a trace. To blend in with the norm even though he was clearly set apart. Used to some being absolutely clueless of the danger he presented, or that he was even there. Used to being invisible. There but not. A wisp of something in the darker corners of everyone's mind. Always there, in the wind and the whispers. Always heard and felt, a call in the wind, a chill down the spine, but never truly seen. Yet when he did come forth from the curtain of shadow draped across the minds of all, he could strike quickly, and decisively, like that of a serpent. So fast they hardly knew who or what he was before he was upon them, so deadly his carefully planned blows hit their mark not only in the arteries of flowing blood, but in the minds as well. There and gone, to leave his mark, to remind them he is there, so they can never forget.

Whether he had simply begun to fade from the other's view, as he always did from _their_ minds eventually, Michael did not know. Though he did know that if Jason was anything like the ones he preyed upon, there was still a lingering recognition in the other, and he would come to recognition of his presence eventually. Assuming as such, he let the undead man be, dismissing the change as something similar to the flow of a wave, of which went back to its original position in time.

It did not.

Autumn had turned to winter. Falling leaves had turned to powdery snow lazily descending to the ground. Halloween had all but passed a while ago, leaving calm and quiet in Michael's mind where there had once been anxiety and anticipation. Perhaps it was this current state of his mind that kept Michael from falling into the depths of his thoughts and keeping him intact with his surroundings. It might have been a relief for him, to be no longer pondering on his next actions, moving and striking accordingly. Alas, the man's mind never seemed to rest; whether he be sitting alone, locked away by either some outside force or his own accord, in which to escape the physical realm to delve into his mind, calculating his future movements with cunning precision. Or observing the hunting ground, tracking his prey, stalking their every movement, every habit, searching for any weakness, any fault, or how, in ending the target, the area around him would react - in his favor? Or no?

No, his mind was never at ease. Even at a time such as this - his thoughts not devoted to his sister or the like but to the other killer across from him - his mind did not rest. While Jason's silence still did not bother him, it was an irregular occurrance which his mind demanded to inspect. If anything, Michael's greatest attribute was his ability to observe, and act off of those observations.

So now his observations were directed to the other - his movements, his breathing - of which was steady and calm - the unfocused look in his eyes. Everything that could be perceived by his eye he examined. Though it was not enough.

Even as the days passed, Michael was still uncertain as to what exactly was happening in the mind behind that hockey mask. It was frustrating, even for him, who had patience unmatched by any other; his ability to watch for infinate periods of time outmatching any obstacle in his way. Perhaps it aggitated him so merely because of all the solutions he had already deemed not the case. There was no sadness or remorse in that gaze of Jason's, nor did he figit or lumber about in anticipation or irritation. Nothing in his movements suggested anything irregular that should account for his irregular behavior, and the environment about them had undergone no change that might evoke a response besides that of the changing of the weather.

Failure to understand only drove Michael's curiousity further. He followed the man where ever he went, though he wasn't moving about much, as he would usually walk about the camp ensuring it had remained untainted by any teenage or otherwise human activity. This had both killers often remaining for countless hours - or days - in the same room, unmoving, one staring off into oblivion and the other staring into the depths of his companion's eyes, trying to search for anything he might have missed.

Michael would never directly inquire as to what was happening with his friend, even if he could make verbal communication. He would never step between the other man and his destination to give him a confused look of which would ask all that words could and more for any explanation. He would never try to suggest anything - with body language, of course - to the other in attempt to make the strange atmosphere about them normal again. Never would he do these things. Rather, he continued to remain invisible and simply observe.

It was not for several more days until Michael finally recieved something more worthy of observing.

The temperature had dropped considerably, though this was barely a hindrance to him and not a complication at all to Jason, as he trudged through the snow about the campgrounds with another killer right behind him. It appeared to the Halloween killer as if the other was securing the area, checking all the cabins and walking about the perimeter of the property. He was being deep and thorough about it, something that did not escape Michael's notice.

When they both returned to Jason's cabin, one numb from the cold and the other oblivious, they each took their usual positions of late, one staring at the other and one staring down at his entwined fingers. This lasted for a long while, until one rose and the other, as always, followed.

The man in the stark white mask was led to the lake itself, where the sunset cast magnificent oranges and purples throughout the sky where it reflected off the water's surface. Both of them found themselves staring at the scene before them, taking in nature's beauty. Entrancing it was, to draw two heartless killers into gazing at the sight. Michael did eventually break away from the environment's grasp on his senses, only to realize that the other was staring at him. He returned the stare, wondering why now he was no longer invisible to the other.

Jason's eyes soon returned to the lake, but there was no longer a blank look in them, rather, a longing one. The undead man's arms reached towards the sky as he quite out of the blue stretched. This confused the other. Being unliving, Michael assumed he had no need to stretch his muscles, or feel what normal people felt when they usually stretched... sleepy.

After returning to his normal relaxed position, the eyes behind his hockey mask blinked slowly, and one might have thought he was blinking away sleep. Black eyes from a white mask stared at him questioningly. There was no physical response, but Michael, through the strange bond they seemed to have established, got the sense of feeling the words rather than hearing them, _Time to sleep._

He had no time to inquire as to this strange feeling he got from the other before said killer began to wade into the lake at a leisurely pace. With each step he took deeper into the lake his companion stared after him, confusion written on a face beneath an expressionless one. At about shoulder-high in water, Jason turned to meet eyes with the other. And at the moment those two sets of eyes locked, Michael understood. Whether it was the look in the eyes, or some unspoken word between them, or some knowing within them, it was uncertain.

What was certain was that Jason's time was done, for now. As Michael would come and then disappear into the shadows after Halloween, winter chased away campers from the site, and its guardian was no longer needed.

As one disappeared into the depths of the lake, the other disappeared from the minds of all, where before he had still been in the mind of one; one that was now dormant at the bed of the lake.

And when the time comes, when the lake thaws and the minds grow bold, each in turn will rise again, and inevitably meet once more.


End file.
